


Can I Get Underneath Ya

by itsallaboutzarry



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, Bottom Zayn, Christmas Smut, Lapdance, M/M, Minor Nick Grimshaw/Louis Tomlinson, Minor Zayn Malik/Liam Payne, Minor Zayn Malik/Louis Tomlinson, OT5, Pining Zayn, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Blow Jobs, Public Hand Jobs, Recreational Drug Use, Shameless Smut, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 15:03:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13102716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsallaboutzarry/pseuds/itsallaboutzarry
Summary: He hears Harry say, “Dare,” without breaking their stare. He has a vague thought that he should be nervous.“I dare you to blow Zayn.”Never having to hear Liam say blow before, and definitely not without so much as a blush is what Zayn chooses to focus on, instead of Harry’s quiet, “Okay.” Because he must’ve heard wrong, right? There’s no way Harry’s actually going to do it.





	Can I Get Underneath Ya

**Author's Note:**

> A Christmas present from me to all of you.  
> Title from Rendezvous At Two's song F*ck Me & Feed Me.  
> And is it really public if it's just your best friends watching?

_2night , 10 pm , u better not get started without us , i have the best idea EVER ! !_  


“He might poison us.”

Liam rolls his eyes. “Lou doesn’t wanna kill us.”

“Maybe not on purpose, or right now, or directly…”

“Zayn.”

“Can you honestly say that you’ve never feared for your life because of him?”

“Well, I mean…” Liam has the audacity to shrug. He must not remember, but Zayn does.

“What about the time he made you jump off the roof?”

“Yeah, into a pool,” Liam defends, like that makes any difference whatsoever.

“You missed.”

“It was just a broken arm.”

They’ve had this conversation before, but Zayn’s not in the mood to try and convince Liam right now. At least not without being able to look at him. “Liam.”

“He didn’t make me. I wanted to.”

Zayn pauses the game on the screen and sighs. “That’s completely not the point I’m making.”

“Zayn.”

“ _Liam._ ”

“He’s bringing Harry, right?”

“ _Liam_.”

“ _Zayn_.”

“Shut up.”

“Why don’t you like, talk to him?”

“And say what?” Zayn scoffs, because he always scoffs when Liam suggests something stupid, like buying Harry a drink when they’re at Burton’s or asking him out on a date, or telling Harry he likes him. Liam has some stupid ideas, but these always take the cake.

“I don’t know,” Liam rolls his eyes, “What about ‘hey Harry, I like you, wanna go out?”

“Right. Because he’d totally say yes.”

“He might.”

“He might not.”

“Might as well ask him though.”

“Yeah, don’t think I will.”

“What about–”

“That was a one-time thing,” Zayn cuts him off, because he’d rather not think about the time Harry was too sloshed to walk home and then ten minutes later, he was sober enough to pour them both water and make them drink it, because he didn’t want them to have hangovers the next morning. Harry definitely wasn’t too drunk to step in front of Zayn when he was done drinking and say, “I want to kiss you, can I kiss you?” and then lead them both to his bedroom where he more stuttered into Zayn’s mouth than anything else, that he wanted to fuck him too. Zayn doesn’t want to remember him fumbling with the lube or coming embarrassingly fast, which wasn’t nearly as embarrassing as it should’ve been because Harry came even before Zayn did. He didn’t even dared to open his eyes at first. Zayn distinctly remembers not taking a single breath out of fear he was dreaming, and the bubble of pleasure would pop if he so much as blinked one eye open. It didn’t, but still. Zayn really doesn’t want to think about any of it, because then he’d have to excuse himself and go have a discreet wank like he does every time the memory comes flooding his thoughts.

“Doesn’t have to be,” Liam shrugs and gives him that look where his eyes go soft and sad and so pitiful that Zayn has to scowl to preserve some dignity.

“Shut up,” he says again and upauses the game.

“Hey, that’s cheating.”

It isn’t until half past that there’s a kick at the door and Liam’s getting up off the sofa to open it. Arms full and a Harry slung over his back, Louis says, “Ready for the best night of your lives?” as he drags them both inside with Niall on his heels.

Zayn groans preemptively, because that must mean Louis really does have a plan for tonight and that, that can’t be good for their health. His last idea was to dress Zayn up as a girl and watch how many guys try to hit on him. With a wig, elaborate make-up they had Lottie do, and a stuffed bra Zayn didn’t want to know where Niall got, Zayn sat at the bar for a good half an hour with free drinks all around his elbows, and half as many numbers scribbled on napkins stuffed into the pocket of his shirt. That might not have been a bad idea – though Zayn doesn’t know what Louis did with the numbers afterwards – but the worst by far, even if Zayn wouldn’t admit to liking the attention or the half-crazed looks that kept being sent his way from twelve pairs of different colored eyes, was after. The fact that Zayn ended up dancing with Harry, having drank every single one of those paid-for cosmopolitans and vodka cranberries when he would’ve preferred whiskeys or rum-cokes anyway, pulled against Harry’s chest by strong arms and a tight hold of his fingers that Zayn can still feel if he concentrates hard enough, was definitely detrimental for Zayn’s well-being.

A kiss on the lips and a low growl was all he got, but it was enough to fuel the fantasy of being bent over the table with his high heels still on. All Zayn got, was a hand on the small of his back before Harry was swaying a little too much on his way to the cab he must’ve called when Zayn wasn’t looking. Harry didn’t ask Zayn to come with him.

“So, what’s this idea of yours then?” Liam asks with his arms crossed over his chest while they pile on the sofa and the floor in front of it. Louis unloads the six packs on the coffee-table, leaving the vodka and the juice under it. For now.

“Okay, listen up,” Louis starts, as if all four of them aren’t already looking at him expectantly, but maybe the attention isn’t quite enough for him. It wouldn’t be the first time. “We all know how to play truth or dare, right?”

There’s a muffled groan and a slight whimper.

“Right. Now what I’m thinking is basically _that_ , but, you have to do the dare or truth, before you’re allowed to drink.”

Zayn raises an eyebrow and Liam frowns. Niall and Harry are smiling and nodding. Louis looks stupidly proud.

“Isn’t that just, you know, regular truth or dare?”

“Truth or dare doesn’t technically involve drinking,” Niall explains slowly, because it’s apparent that Liam isn’t quite convinced. Zayn’s choosing to pretend he’s okay with it, whatever, he might be hoping to be dared to kiss Harry. He doesn’t care.

“Yes, thank you, Niall. I want all of us to get spectacularly drunk, so you have to drink is what I’m adding to the game.”

“How are we doing it then?” Zayn asks, just to seem like he wants to start already, rather than get to the point when they’re all slipping into too tipsy to care anymore.

“I’ll start, of course, and whoever I pick goes next. Ready? Niall,” Louis barrels on. The beer is still in the plastic, the vodka and juice caps closed tight, but Louis’ never let those kinds of details slow him down. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Did you or did you not use the last of the toilet roll last night?”

“I didn’t!” Niall shakes his head. “It wasn’t me, I told ya already it wasn’t me.”

Louis scowls at him and when Zayn looks over at Harry, he’s biting his bottom lip and blushing a pretty pink that looks so good it makes Zayn’s mouth water.

It makes Louis gasp a shocked, “Harold,” though, when he sees it too. “You little shit.”

“I bought it this morning,” he tries to defend himself, but it’s no use.

“Yeah, after I yelled from the toilet for half an hour.”

“Sorry, Lou.”

“Mhm.” The way Louis' eyes glaze over scares Zayn for Harry’s safety. He has an urge to keep Harry safe, but then he thinks how he also wants to see what Louis comes up with to pay him back. It’ll definitely involve toilet paper, Zayn knows that much.

Zayn tries to keep a smile on his face as Harry nuzzles Louis’ neck with a murmured apology probably pressed against his neck with a hot breath. He tries to, but it feels painful.

“So, my turn, right?”

Louis’ nodding as he tries to wrangle a can out of the plastic to hand it to Niall.

And then Niall looks to his right. “Liam, truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Liam says quietly. He always waits a few rounds to get to the dares, needs a bit of a warm-up to start jumping off roofs and walking into drive-throughs whilst pretending he’s in a car, engine noises and all. Zayn sympathizes deeply with him.

“When’s the last time you got laid?” Niall asks it as easy as anything, slurping on the bit of foam that’s trying to spill over the rim of the can.

Right after his cheeks burn up, Liam stutters out a, “Two nights ago,” that’s immediately followed by a round or whoops and whistles.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Louis tries a southern accent and fails spectacularly, “Our innocent Liam’s not so innocent after all, huh?”

“Stop,” Harry drags out as slow as ever with a finger stabbing into Louis’ side and pulls himself down on the floor, his eyes already lighting up. Zayn doesn’t think about how they’re closer now, their knees nearly touching. “Who is she? Do we know her? Is she pretty?”

Liam’s blush seems like a permanent fixture on his face as he finally starts on the vodka and orange juice now that he’s ‘allowed’. “It’s, um, Lyn, you know, from Physics? We’ve, um, we’ve been seeing each other, I think. Going out for a bit.”

“I don’t know her.” Harry’s looking around at them, searching for someone that’ll pull out his phone and show him her profile on Facebook or something. No one moves, not even when Harry pouts and looks like he might just cry.

“I’ll bring her ‘round,” Liam’s too quick to say, falling for Harry’s baby face once again. “You’ll like her, she is really pretty.”

And just like Zayn knew it would, Harry’s face lights up like a fucking bulb. “We can have lunch tomorrow, or maybe next week,” Harry's nodding at Liam, who’s probably already regretting saying anything. Usually he’s good at lying when he knows it’s either that or Louis knowing too much and Harry getting too invested.

Taking a careful sip, Liam shifts his eyes from Harry to Zayn, and it’s before he even opens his mouth that Zayn wants to forfeit the entire game and stuff his face underneath a pillow.

“Zayn,” Liam goes on, clearing his throat now that his turn is over and he can relax for a while. “Truth or dare?”

Sighing at the ceiling, Zayn says a steady, “Truth.” He’s fine, Liam is too nice to say anything.

“When’s the last time _you_ got laid?”

“Wait,” Louis stops them with a raised hand. “Do we allow repetition of questions?”

Zayn wants to say it’s just a stupid game and a loud _no_ as well, but that might lead to other questions he would much rather not answer than this one, even if Liam knows full when the last time was. He thought Liam wouldn’t stoop so low, he really did.

“It’s fine,” he shrugs as the others agree.

“Right, okay. So?”

Zayn wants to choke Louis and his ridiculously raised eyebrow.

“Um,” Zayn clears his throat, and decides looking at Liam will save him some dignity, so instead of mumbling down at the floor and then having to repeat it, he says a clear, “Two months ago.”

“What day exactly, though?” Louis pushes, but Zayn knows better. It’s not like Louis even knows anything.

“That’s a double truth,” Zayn says flatly. He hates this game. But at least now he can pour himself a half and half drink and gulp it down his throat to try and pretend like Harry isn’t looking at him.

Zayn doesn’t so much as blink when he says, “Truth or dare?” with his eyes on the seat between Niall and Louis. He doesn’t so much as think when Harry picks dare, and Zayn nods at the vodka. “Take a shot.”

Harry does and then Louis is clasping his hands together and grinning at them all. “Dare,” he says before Harry has a chance to ask. “And make it fun, none of that shot nonsense.”

It’s how Harry likes to start though, they’ve played this enough times before that he remembers Harry always making a point of asking if his first one can be a drink. A shot of whatever they have, before he’s sipping on a mix of something sweet. Zayn’s always wondered if Harry tastes of it afterwards, the pineapples and strawberries that color his drinks.

“Right.” Harry’s sacking his lips together, rolling his eyes around as he thinks of something. It’ll be something as equally ridiculous as his shirt, elephants, palm trees, pineapples and bananas patterned all over the blue of it. It’s the middle of winter, two weeks away from Christmas and no one’s made fun of it yet. It’s really only a matter of time. “Oh,” Harry drawls out slowly as his eyes move over to Louis. The way his grin stretches over his face makes Zayn smile and Louis groan.

“I hate you,” Louis mumbles, before Harry says, “Text Nick. Tell him you’re sorry and that you miss him.”

“Do we have a rule about refusing dares?”

Zayn gives him an unimpressed look. “The rule is that we can’t.”

“You sure about that, Malik?”

Louis doesn’t know. “Yes.”

“I hate all of you.” Louis makes it a point to look around at all of them before he’s pulling out his phone and frowning down at it as he types up the message.

“Show me.”

He throws the phone at Harry who surprisingly catches it without fumbling. He seems pleased with what he sees, so he’s quick to pass it back with a happy, “Lou.”

“Shut up.” Gulping down his beer, Louis stuffs his phone between the cushions of the sofa and goes on. “Liam, truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Why are you always like this?”

Harry says a soft, “Lou, leave him be,” but it doesn’t stop the, “When are you finally gonna have some fun?” coming right after it. Zayn feels bad on principle. It’s not because Liam blushes and Harry bites his lip, dismissed by Louis, yet again. He doesn’t know when it’s started, but Zayn’s sure he has a problem with how Harry seeks some sort of approval from him, like nothing would make him happier than Louis patting his head with a _Good boy._

Nothing wrong with it, Zayn just hates it. On principle.

“Fine,” Louis huffs when Liam keeps his eyes somewhere on the floor, quietly standing his ground. And then Louis asks, “Who’s the last person you kissed, then?” which makes Zayn’s stomach twist tightly. He doesn’t know why they keep circling around these questions, because the understanding is that they talk about these sort of things, always know when one of them pulls or does something stupid. Nothing ever stays a secret for too long. Louis probably thinks he already knows the answer, and he wants to get it over with sooner rather than later.

Zayn has to move his legs in front of him as he waits, so he ends up leaning up on one elbow and shying his whole self to the side, because this feels awkward already even if Liam’s not moved his head a centimeter yet.

Liam says something then, but even Niall sitting right next to him asks, “What was that?”

Liam mumbles again and Louis’ quick to snap, “A bit louder, would you?”

“Zayn,” Liam says with a frown that makes Zayn’s stomach drop and splat against their carpet.

“What?” It’s Harry who asks, straightening his back. He goes as far as to sit on his haunches and lean forward, but he doesn’t look at Zayn, keeping his eyes steadily on Liam.

He didn’t hear wrong though, not unless Liam’s left the flat since last night and Zayn knows he hasn’t.

He doesn’t know why he flinches when Louis says a careful, “Zayn, is this true?” But Zayn does.

He doesn’t want to talk about it. So he shrugs. That’s answer enough, right?

“Well, well, well, when did this happen?”

“Last night?”

“What?” Harry asks again, his eyes on Zayn this time as he wishes that Liam would leave it be, turn to someone else and keep up with the game, but Liam's too earnest, too desperate to not make a mess out of this, which will inevitably lead to a proper mess. Zayn sighs.

“We kissed,” he says with another shrug. “Not much to tell.”

“How did it happen, I mean…”

Zayn can't blame Niall for being confused.

“Um, well,” Liam clears his throat. Here comes the mess. “It was Zayn, actually... He, um, he kissed me?”

“Zaynie.” Louis' eyes are shining, Zayn knows without looking, but he turns his head when Harry says a sharper, “What?”

“He didn't let me have a smoke,” Zayn explains, because Liam didn't. Hid his pack with only two cigarettes left, that Zayn decided beforehand would be split into one before bed and one in the morning when he'd have to walk to get more. But Liam was being his usual self, listing off everything that's wrong with it, all of the things Zayn could buy if he invested his money in something smarter, like a _gym membership_ , which was the stupidest thing Zayn’s ever heard, and Zayn tried telling him as much, but nothing worked. Not until Zayn leaned in and kiss him. There was barely any space between them anyway, and it was barely anything at all, lasted all of half a second, but Liam just stood there with the pack of cigarettes in his hand and his mouth opening closing like a fish on dry land. Zayn used it as a chance to take it away from him. They haven't exactly discussed it, not that there's anything to discuss, it was barely a kiss.

“Never gonna do that, then.”

“Ha ha,” he frowns at Niall.

“So you just…” Harry points a finger from Zayn to Liam. His face looks almost like Liam's did last night. “You kissed him?”

Zayn draws his eyes over to the carpet, his fingers playing over it. “It’s not a big deal.”

“ _Zayn_ ,” Liam says sternly, so Zayn gives him a look that makes him go all flushed again. It only takes another awkward second before Liam is saying, “Fine. Niall? Truth or dare?”

“Truth, mate, I don’t want to kiss any of you.”

Zayn is suddenly exhausted.

Liam asks him something along the lines of, “How many people have you seen naked?” which is weird, so Zayn doesn’t pay attention to it. Niall picks Harry, Harry picks Louis and Louis goes to Liam again. No one mentions how Zayn keeps drinking and pouring himself more, because they’re occupied not paying attention to him. He just needs a moment to feel offended by himself, without having to answer questions like, _fuck, marry and have a roast with: mums edition_ , and just watching Niall dance to a song with his headphones on and then Louis humping the sofa for a minute. It’s fun to just watch anyway.

Once a few rounds go by without him and they’re all pleasantly warm from switching to more vodka than juice, it’s Niall who says, “Zayn? Truth or dare?”

Feeling better than he did at the start of the night, now that he doesn’t have to keep avoiding Liam’s nervous glances, he says, “Dare.”

“Uuh,” Niall lights up. “Since you’ve ticked off Liam, kiss Lou.”

Maybe Zayn should be bothered that it’s apparently a _thing_ now, because out of all of them, he only has Niall to kiss, really, if he wants to say he’s ticked all of them off, but Niall must not remember Zayn and Louis had been having their own fun back when it was just the two of them. He’s done more than just kiss Louis before, but he’s not about to bring it up, because it's been years ago and it doesn't matter anyway. So Zayn shrugs and shuffles up to his knees and walks over to Louis who’s sprawled over the sofa.

Without thinking about the time he ticked off Harry, two months ago, neither of them _that_ drunk, but still pretending like they didn’t remember it afterwards, even if they did wake up in Harry bed the morning after, tangled together and naked and sober, casting each other careful glances as they got dressed and Zayn had left with an awkward, ‘See ya.’

“Better make this good, Zaynie,” Louis teases when Zayn makes his way between his knees and reaches up to plant a smacking peck on his lips. They smile at each other, both remembering the first time and how awkward it was. It’s always been nice, kissing Louis. He doesn’t look it, but Louis’ patient with it, drawing it out, likes kissing just for kissing’s sake.

“You call that a kiss?” Niall asks too loudly for how close he is when Zayn sits back on his knees. “I kiss my mother like that, come on.”

“Niall, that’s really weird. What did we say about oversharing?” Louis’ laughing at him, but Niall’s waving him off, taking another drink. It seems they’ve all forgotten about the rules. But it’s not like there’s anything else to do really. Zayn is single, as much as he’d rather not be, and Louis is in something with Nick. Something he only wants to talk with Harry about, because out of all of them, Harry’s the most rational one when it comes to love and relationships. Zayn would talk about it with him as well if it was appropriate. _So, how do I get you to go on a date with me?_ It might have something to do with Harry being friends with Nick too though, some sort of inside information.

“Come here then, let's show ‘em how it’s done.”

“We know how to kiss,” Harry’s saying slowly and too quietly for Zayn to stop and look over his shoulder at him to see what his face is doing, smiling or pouting, before he’s leaning into Louis again.

This time, Louis gets his fingers around the back of Zayn’s neck, humming into Zayn’s mouth before he’s parting his lips and they’re kissing, just like they used to, slow and careful, kissing just to kiss. It’s good, of course it is, because Louis knows Zayn likes to lean to the left and kiss his bottom lip, kind of like Louis only hints his tongue against Zayn's, bites Zayn’s lip right before they break apart, because he knows Zayn’s always appreciated a quick nip.

“That’s all you’re getting out of me, Malik, now go sit back down.”

And with a pinch to Louis’ calf, Zayn’s shuffling back and sprawling over the floor again, more relaxed than he was before. He chases away Louis’ taste with a sip of his drink and then peers over to Liam.

“Truth or dare?”

“Will I have to kiss anyone?”

Zayn shrugs. They always end up here anyway, the five of them. It’s never more than stupid and fun and drunk, but they always end up kissing one way or the other.

“Fine. Dare.”

“Give Louis a hickey.” He would’ve picked Niall, but he knows how Louis reacts to it, and he’d rather not make himself watch Harry squirming underneath Liam’s weight. It’ll be more fun this way, to see the moment Liam realizes he’s making Louis hard.

Liam’s raised eyebrow almost makes Zayn think twice, but he won’t be the only one not having fun.

Liam ends up apologizing once Louis pushes him away from the hinge of his neck with a flushed face and a pillow covering his lap, and Harry nearly has to breathe in a paper bag, because he’s forgot his inhaler. But they move on quickly enough when Louis is made to give Harry a lap-dance that Zayn does not watch, and then Niall is made to sit in Liam’s lap for the rest of the night as a retaliation. Zayn has to roll them a blunt and then he’s not allowed to smoke, which is officially the worst dare he’s ever had to do, and that includes licking Niall’s foot.

But then, slightly high and definitely drunk, Niall is pointing a finger at Zayn with a slurred, “Truth or dare?” and because Zayn is finally feeling loose and untangled, he smiles as he answers, “Dare.”

“Great. I dare you to sit still while Harry gives you a lapdance.” And the world tilts on its axis.

Louis is standing up and Harry is looking at Zayn from the corner of his eye with an apprehensive smile. Zayn doesn’t want to make him do it if he doesn’t want it to, which he knows is the fundamental point of a dare, but he’s getting up off the floor and falling into Louis’ corner of the sofa with Harry right behind him.

Zayn wants to ask who’s dare it even is, since Harry will be doing all the work, but the look on Louis face as he sits on the floor opposite him reminds Zayn that he’ll have to be still, perfectly still, as Harry stands between his legs, showing him his back and bending his legs just enough for his ass to graze over Zayn’s groin. Technically, it’s Zayn who might not survive.

Zayn doesn’t know when he did it, but his hands are lifted in the air, around Harry’s hips without touching as he rolls them this way and then that, turning around so he can stand with Zayn's thigh between his own and grind against it as he holds himself to the back of the couch and grins down at Zayn. He doesn’t know how, but the three pairs of eyes watching them fade to the background as Zayn tries to keep his eyes up on Harry’s face and not on gap of his shirt where he could see Harry’s nipples, or at the zipper of his jeans, where it must be digging into his cock. Which Zayn can feel, quite forcefully, against his stomach when Harry suddenly sits in his lap and starts to brazenly rub off against him. But by that point, Zayn has no idea what’s happening anymore, just that he’s keeping still, perfectly still, his hands still in the air.

He’s breathing as steadily as he can make himself, because this is like a wet dream come to life, an early Christmas and birthday present all wrapped in a neatly packaged Harry staring down at him and grinding against him to the beat of Zayn’s erratic heartbeat.

Zayn’s trying to think of something horribly sad, like sick puppies, world hunger, flunking out of college because that would break his mother’s heart, but then he can’t think about his mum right now, that would be entirely inappropriate to think about whilst also hoping Harry can’t feel how hard he’s gotten. _God._

“Alright, alright, Zayn, it’s your turn,” someone says, Zayn can’t exactly tell, because Harry might have ended moving around in his lap, but he’s still there, knees on either side of him, his weight pressing Zayn into the sofa.

Zayn has yet to look away from Harry and it’s either his flushed cheeks or the lip between his teeth that he can’t look away from, but he can’t. He’s clearing his throat to say, “Niall,” and then without waiting, asking, “Which one of us would you want to date?” because Niall always picks anyone but Louis, which will occupy all three of them. “Do you need a-” Zayn asks more quietly while going to hold the pillow at his side and raising his eyebrows carefully at Harry.

He doesn’t want to make it a big deal, but Zayn remembers the last time they were hard, together, alone, in Harry’s room, tipsy enough to do something about it. Harry wasn’t sitting in his lap then, but Zayn wanted him to and now he is, except they’re not alone now, and Harry is shaking his head and then rolling off his lap and sitting next to him instead with his hands in his lap.

Zayn is sure he has some very strong opinions about the three bickering idiots seeing Harry hard - he doesn’t think they’ve seen it before and Zayn has, couldn’t stop looking at how Harry’s cock curved to the left by just that much to nearly make his mouth water - but he doesn’t know if he can say anything about it, doesn’t know if he’s allowed, if it’s even his place to have an opinion on it. Probably not.

So when Louis huffs out petulantly, because Niall is obviously still set on dating Liam and not him, and orders Zayn to move out of his spot, Zayn does. Shuffling back to floor a bit further away than he was sitting before, so he can bring his knees up to his chest Zayn tries to calm down. He just needs to breathe for a second without someone grinding against him.

While Niall and Louis exchange a couple truths and dares back and forth just to rile each other up, Zayn doesn’t miss the way Liam is sending him confused looks that are more worried than anything else and Harry specifically _not_ looking his way. This is Louis’ worst idea to date.

“Fine, I don’t care, even if I make a wonderful boyfriend,” Louis flips Niall off and turns away from him, settling his glare on Zayn.

Feeling unsettled, Zayn suggests, “We could just call Nick and ask,” because he isn’t stupid enough to poke at Louis while he’s on a mission, but Zayn knows that just mentioning Nick will soften him up into a sappy puddle of regret for fucking up yet again.

Louis flips him off as well, but leaves it be, thankfully, so they move on with a truth for Liam, “Have you ever tried to blow yourself?” to which he sputters out an indignant, “No?” Louis catches the fresh blush on Harry’s cheeks though, and so does Zayn.

“Harold? _Really_?”

“Hey,” Harry drawls out and then tries to defend himsel with, “I do yoga. I wanted to see if my flexibility has improved any,” like that makes it better.

“By trying to give yourself a blowjob?”

Harry shies away from Louis but still tucking himself against Louis’ side while he laughs into his curly hair and Zayn feels like he should be protesting, because now they’ve both put the image in his head. Harry bent over his middle, legs dangling in the air, mouth open, tongue out, probably messy with precome, because Zayn remembers that part like it happened yesterday, how messy Harry gets when he’s turned on. There’s probably a wet spot in his pants right now, as he’s putting his leg over Louis’ lap, and Zayn should _not_ be thinking about that. He’s supposed to be calming down, not getting hard all over again.

“It’s my turn, right?” Liam asks what seems like out of nowhere, a bit too loud, too quickly. Zayn chances a look over at him, but Liam’s already looking at Zayn. He might’ve noticed how Zayn’s eyes kept slipping down to the crotch of Harry’s jeans, seeing if he can spot the wet patch. Maybe wishing for it too. Not waiting for answer, Liam says, “Harry.”

This should be the point Zayn taps out, feigning exhaustion or just flat out refusing to play anymore, because something about Liam’s set expression is unsettling, but Zayn can’t make himself. Suddenly, he wants to see what happens. Zayn wants to push Liam just as much as he wants to push himself. He hears Harry say, “Dare,” without breaking their stare. He has a vague thought that he should be nervous.

“I dare you to blow Zayn.”

Never having to hear Liam say _blow_ before, and definitely not without so much as a blush is what Zayn chooses to focus on, instead of Harry’s quiet, “Okay.” Because he must’ve heard wrong, right? There’s no way Harry’s actually going to do it.

“Right here?” Niall asks once he’s put his glass down, looking over his shoulder at Liam. “Like, in front of us?”

“That would be a first, huh?” Louis says with a smirk, which is what makes Liam’s cheeks pink up finally. “Up for it Harold?”

Zayn keeps his eyes on Liam, but he can see Harry shrug out of the corner of his eye. He’s going to kill them, every single one of them - except maybe Niall. Zayn knows he should say no, actually tap out, because he’s not getting his cock out in front of everyone, _he’s not_ , and _god_ , he’s definitely hard again.

For all of their kissing and grinding and childhood experiments, this _would be_ a first, in more ways than one. Last time it was all so new, so exciting and such a desperate need to just get off with each other, that they didn’t get past a couple tugs before Harry had three fingers inside Zayn and then his cock, and then they were both coming. They weren’t that drunk, but they didn’t take their time to enjoy it. Zayn’s never had an audience, and he doubts it’ll improve matters.

“It’s a dare, right?” Harry says, looking from Louis, to Liam, and then at Zayn.

That makes it worse. That makes it sound like Harry would back off if he didn’t _have to_ do it, but he doesn’t, he should know that he doesn’t have to do anything that he doesn’t want to. Except Harry surely already knows that. He’d given Zayn a lapdance anyway. And now he’s standing  up from the sofa and walking the distance to get to Zayn.

It’s exceptionally clear headed and determined, the look on Harry’s face completely serious and slightly challenging, all until he actually drops down to his knees and bites his lip. Then Harry’s eyes soften. “I, um-” Harry looks down at his hands, fumbling for words. “Is it okay?” he asks quietly, nearly whispering it.

This had about twenty different ways of happening, but Zayn never thought it’d be like this, and even if there was an option, he never thought he’d be nodding. Running away, laughing it off, making up a ridiculous rule about there being obvious boundaries being crossed here that should not ever be crossed, because a kiss is a kiss, but this isn’t that. This is Harry nodding back at Zayn and then straddling his calves and thumbing Zayn’s button open while Louis sits behind him and Liam and Niall are stumbling to get on the sofa as well, as if they doesn’t want to sit right next to them while this happens, while Harry blows Zayn on their living room floor while they watch.

Zayn’s thought about Harry’s broad back, all tight muscles and innocently inkless skin, but he’s never thought about it as a way to shield himself from view while Harry tucks his zipper down and then leans down a little, so that Zayn is completely hidden.

He can’t not look up from Harry’s hands to his face, because he needs more than the technicality of this being a dare to let this happen. It doesn’t have to be anything grand, Harry wanting to do it will be enough. “Is this okay for you?” Zayn asks him quietly, imploring him to say no if it isn’t absolutely okay. At least they’re not pissed, not _that_ drunk again. Zayn thinks that makes it better.

“Yeah,” Harry breaths out and then smiles shyly at Zayn. Somehow, that makes it okay.

Before anything happens, Zayn almost makes it a point for the three of them on the sofa to.move closer so that they can actually see this if that’s what they wanted, Zayn with his cock out or Harry’s lips around it, whichever, because _they_ ’re the ones that wanted it to happen this way, or maybe just Liam did. Maybe he has a thing for exhibitionism nobody knew about. Zayn would have prefered a bed, something softer underneath Harry’s knees instead of just a worn out carpet with more stains than not. Zayn didn’t want them to have to ask, he wanted it to be clear in their eyes, on their faces, wanted them both to want this so much, they’d be laughing with it. Instead it’s the opposite. Harry is staring down at his crotch like he’s never seen someone’s pants before. And he definitely has, might have even seen this exact pair, for all Zayn remembers.

Someone clears their throat, and Zayn wants to flip them off, but he says, “Let me,” instead, trailing it off into his hand moving to the elastic of his pants instead, giving Harry a last look and watching him nod again, before he’s pulling his cock out and this is it, it’s actually happening.

Except nothing does for a long second. Zayn is practically lying on the floor and Harry is still right there in his lap, but he’s not making a move, just looking at where Zayn holding himself up. Not that he has to.

Zayn almost asks Harry again, if he’s sure; almost laughs it all off and runs to his bedroom, locks the door and promises to never come out. It’s what he should do, Zayn is pretty sure it’s what the best option would be, but then he sees Harry reaching his hand out and all Zayn can do is close his eyes and hold his breath.

The first touch is so gentle, Zayn barely feels it, like a whisper that still somehow makes him shiver, because _yeah, this is definitely happening_. It’s another long second before Harry has his hand wrapped around the top half of him, moving it up and down where Zayn isn’t still holding on to himself. He doesn’t think he can move. Harry will just have to make do.

It’s dry in all the wrong places, rough when Harry tightens his hand, on the wrong side of painful when he presses his thumb against Zayn’s slit, because he isn’t messy, not like Harry can get. Zayn is messy afterwards, after he comes and sighs, when he doesn’t care if he’s sticky or not, can go to sleep and worry about it afterwards. Before, Zayn likes a little lube, but he’s not going to make Harry go to his bedroom to get it. This is supposed to be a blowjob anyway, but Harry’s gaze is fixed on his hand, on how he’s making Zayn hiss and grunt as quietly as he can, while he speeds his movements up. Zayn’s about to stop him, because he won’t be able to take much more of it like this, when Harry’s hand suddenly isn’t there anymore and they’re staring at each other while Harry licks over his palm.

Zayn wants to say something, or at least dignify the way his cock twitches at the sight with a moan, but he can’t, because then they’ll all hear him. There’s something about letting himself be loud that’s unsettling, doesn’t feel like he can do it, that makes him bite his lip when Harry wraps his hand around the tip again, his spit making the glide smooth and wet and just right. It's a stupid thought, that being loud will somehow make it weird, but it will, Zayn's sure of it.

Which is why Zayn wishes Harry hadn’t done it, because he feels like he’s going to come. Right now. This quick. Too fast. All over Harry’s hand, _fuck,_ Harry’s hand that bumps against Zayn’s on each downstroke, because Zayn still hasn’t been able to let go of himself.

Someone on the sofa clears their throat again. It might be because this is probably much more awkward for them then it is for Zayn now that he has Harry tugging him off and can’t think of anything else, or it might be because Harry is still sitting upright and as much as this feels good, Zayn doesn’t want to wait for one of the others to remind them that Harry should be blowing Zayn by this point. He’d much rather Harry take his time with it, maybe put Zayn right on the edge before he starts using his mouth, so that Zayn will have to adjust to it, lose the spark and have to build the fire all over again.

Zayn looks from Harry’s hand up to his face and sees him looking back, quirking his eyebrow and smirking at him, which is entirely unfair, because somewhere between five seconds and now, Harry’s mustered up some of that cheekiness that he’s always had. It’s all bold and knowing how he looks like when he’s like this, straddling someone’s lap. Zayn’s never seen him look better. Except maybe when he’s grinning from ear to ear, but that might be distracting right now.

Zayn nods again, thinks that’s what Harry wants from him, and it must be, because he’s shuffling back a little and then his lips are around Zayn’s cock and his tongue is pushing against the slit and Zayn’s leg twitches.

“Fuck,” he can’t help but groan out in a whisper. Zayn throws his head back so he doesn’t catch any of the other’s eyes, doesn’t get sidetracked from the heat of Harry’s mouth, already moving his tongue, taking more of Zayn in his mouth.

Harry starts so slow with it, keeps it all concentrated around the head of Zayn’s cock even as he hollows his cheeks and pulls another groan out of him, that it just keeps growing and growing, the heat in his gut pulling all of muscles in his body tighter and closer together. At least Harry doesn’t make him move his hand away so Zayn can squeeze himself at the base to make it a little longer. Harry’s fingers splay over his hips, pushing him into the carpet as he lowers his mouth, still slow, still so determined.

And Zayn can hold himself together, staying still and as quiet as he can manage, which is pretty fucking quiet, until Harry hums, actually moans around him. Then Zayn lets his inhibitions go and moans as well, as loud as he feels like he wants to, which is loud enough for all of them to hear.

He thinks he can feel Harry's smile around him, which is stupid, because he’s swirling his tongue around the underside of Zayn’s cock and then sucking around the tip again, before he moves Zayn’s hand just enough to get him to the back of his throat.

“Shit, shit, shit.” Zayn’s hand moves to the back of Harry’s head all by itself, but he makes sure to hold it there lightly, to not tug on his hair or push him down. Half of Zayn wants to do it, but the other half wants to keep it slow, curling his fingers gently into his hair,

It’s when Harry slurps around him that his toes curl and he looks at the sofa, like Zayn wants to check if they heard it too, the way Harry swallowed around him, if maybe they felt it too. Liam is busy looking down at his lap though, so it’s only Niall that’s gaping with his mouth open and what is decisively a visible stiffy in his jeans. Louis, the smug bastard is sitting there smirking at Zayn, but at least he has a pillow in his lap. The fact that Zayn can see he’s pushing it down into his lap doesn’t make it better, but it does almost make Zayn say ‘you have no idea’ because Louis doesn’t. Zayn asked, and Louis doesn’t know what it’s like having Harry’s hand move down to his balls as he takes him down further, swallowing again, pulling out a moan from him.

Zayn moans again and finally lets himself twist his fingers in Harry’s hair to pull him up a little with a breathy, “I’m gonna-” cut off, because he doesn’t want to say it, but Zayn’s going to come, _fuck he’s going to come_.

“Mmm,” Harry hums and Zayn can feel it in his toes. He pulls on Harry’s hair again, but he doesn’t budge, keeps himself where he is, sucks harder like he wants Zayn to come in his mouth, which is exactly the thought that unravels the heat in Zayn’s gut and pushes him over the edge with a, “Fuck, fuck,” faintly feeling Harry swallowing around him still as he comes down his throat.

He sighs when Harry pulls off him and straightens up again, and it makes Zayn embarrassed, because it he sounds more out of breath than Harry right now. But he can’t help it, Zayn thinks he’s melted right into the carpet, nothing but another stain to add to the collection.

Harry’s tucking him back into his pants carefully when Zayn chances another look at the sofa to see that no one’s there anymore. Did they stay until he came? Does Liam know what his face looks like when he comes now? Will Zayn ever be able to look them in the eye again? He hopes so.

It’s good they’re not here anymore though, because now he only has Harry to focus on, and Zayn doesn’t want to do anything else but.

“Do you-?” Zayn asks, not really knowing how to finish his question besides running his hand over Harry’s thigh and looking at where he’s obviously hard, tenting his jeans painfully. But he should ask, Zayn should make himself say at least, “Do you wanna go to my room?” because he really wants to move them off the floor and onto his soft bed.

Biting his lip, Harry nods.

They shuffle to their feet awkwardly, Harry even offering his hand to pull Zayn up. It would be embarrassing, how soft his legs feel, if it wasn’t for the blowjob. Zayn’s sure Harry knows how it feels.

But he doesn’t know what to do once Harry is standing in front of his bed and he’s closed the door behind them, if he should just drop to his knees and return the favour, finally get his mouth on Harry and see if he can feel that little curve to the left in his mouth, or if he should leave him here to take care of it on his own. Zayn doesn’t know what Harry wants.

“What do you-” he starts to ask, when Harry says, “Can I kiss you?” while he toes at the floor, still biting his lip.

“Yeah, yeah,” Zayn’s stuttering, closing the distance between them and saying, “Yeah, Harry,” right before he falls into him.

Zayn can taste himself on Harry’s tongue, something bitter and then sweet like the juice they were mixing the vodka with, and something entirely different, just Harry Harry Harry. It makes him groan into Harry’s mouth, pull him closer, hope that maybe this won’t be just falling into bed together because their friends are idiotic and like to torture people for fun. Zayn really hopes this won’t end like last time did. But he doesn’t have time to think about it now, as Harry rolls his hips closer and whines, more needy than he was just a second ago.

“Zayn,” he says as he’s trailing his lips over Zayn’s jaw, licking at his skin like he wants to taste Zayn. “Zayn, can I fuck you again? Please?”

“Fuck. Yeah, yeah.” Zayn couldn’t sound more desperate than he does, but he can’t bring himself to care

“Please,” Harry’s still whining, squirming against him. “ _Please_.”

“Fuck, come on.”

He manages to get them onto the bed, stupid shirts, tight jeans and messy pants left in a pile on the floor, Harry pressing his hips insistently down onto Zayn’s so they both end up groaning and getting lost in the pressure of finally getting some attention. As fast as Zayn came, he’s getting hard again, can feel the pull of it again as Harry sneaks a hand between them and gives his cock another tug.

“You okay?” Harry asks.

And Zayn is a little sensitive, but it’s so right, feels like Harry is pulling on all of the strings that are holding him together, like he’ll fall apart as soon as Harry lets go.

“More than,” he whispers, but makes it clear enough for Harry to know that Zayn wants this, just this, nothing but this. Zayn tack on, “Been waiting for this,” on the end, because he’s feeling brave, like he should say it now that he can and Harry isn’t changing his mind.

“God, me too.”

“Yeah?” Zayn spreads his legs apart more, wraps one around Harry’s waist to pull him closer.

“So much, Zayn. Want this so much.” It sounds broken, like Harry’s having a hard time pulling in steady breaths and for some reason, it’s what makes Zayn hard again, gasping into his neck.

“There’s lube right there, come on.”

Harry fumbles to find it, but it feels like it takes him half a second to open the bottle and tip it over his fingers, put a condom on Zayn’s chest for when he gets him ready. Zayn wants to be ready right now.

It’s fast and slick, first one finger and then three, stretching Zayn out and wrangling a rough groan out of his lungs every time Harry crooks them up and drags them out. It’s much better than last time, because Zayn lets himself blink and he breathes, while Harry keeps his mouth pressed either against his mouth or his neck, trailing his lips over Zayn’s skin like he can’t get enough.

Last time was just as frantic, but Zayn doesn’t let himself get too frazzled with it, stays present until he’s begging for, “Come on, please, _please_ ,” to the push and pull of Harry’s fingers.

Zayn’s biting off the corner of the wrapper before Harry brushes his hand against his thigh, sitting up and rolling the condom over him just to speed this up, because Zayn’s on that edge again, ready to fling himself off the cliff.

Harry makes no move though. He’s sinking his fingers into Zayn’s thighs as he keeps his eyes on him, this soft look playing over his face. He leans down to kiss him again and asks, “Do you want to move on your hands and knees?”

Zayn thinks about staying like this, holding on to Harry’s shoulders and wrapping his legs around his waist as he pushes into him, but lets himself be rolled over with the promise of Harry’s hands splayed against the length of his back. Anything to get Harry’s hands on him.

There’s just a hint of pressure against him and before he’s even up on his hands, Zayn falls down on his elbows and grabs onto the pillow instead. He’s sure there’s no way he’s getting out of this alive.

“Ready?” Harry asks tentatively, because he was careful last time as well, always so soft with his touches and words that Zayn nearly cries into the pillow because of it. Instead Zayn cries for him to move.

“Yeah,” he assures him, spreading his legs even further apart when Harry holds onto his hip with one hand. Zayn feels exposed like this, laid bare, when Harry spreads him open and presses himself against his hole gently in a tease, but the thought only lingers when he finally sinks in, first an inch and then another.

It’s tights and it’s full and it’s almost too much as they both hold themselves still so Zayn can breathe with the pressure, but Harry gives him the few seconds it takes and then they’re moving together, pushing and pulling and holding onto anything they can find to not crumble against each other.

“Harder, fuck,” Zayn pleads when his back arches as Harry swoops his hips down and up, right up against that spot that makes Zayn's breath come out all ragged and his thoughts a mess of _more more more_. But Harry doesn’t listen to him, like maybe he can’t, at least that’s what Zayn thinks until he hears a steady, “No,” right next to his ear. “Like this,” Harry says with his voice strained, because he’s trying to keep the rhythm of it, sticky slow and desperately deep, pushing Zayn down into his bed with a hand between his shoulder blades and his hips moving against him, pushing closer, pushing in and practically throwing Zayn over the edge. He whimpers, doesn't think he could do much more than that as he tries to hold off, doesn't want to come so fast when it's all he can think about - the heat unfurling again, always insistent, always building up in his stomach with every slap of their hips like it's a climb and Zayn's about to reach the fucking peak.

“Please, Harry,” Zayn begs for something, for more, maybe harder, maybe a touch somewhere, anywhere. Like maybe his cock, Zayn thinks Harry should fuck him and blow him at the same time, that would definitely propel Zayn into the sky.

His hand works just as well though, running down his back and then around his hips, wrapping around his cock and tugging him off tightly, again in a much more slower pace than Zayn wants. But it's only one, two, three times Harry's hand moves before it stops and Zayn whines again, deep and annoyed, until he feels Harry move with a new determination, his thrusts faster, choppier, chasing after something that Zayn can see himself.

“Like this,” Harry says again, louder this time. “Come on, like this,” he's saying and Zayn's nodding, feeling Harry's hand tighten around him and not moving, but it doesn't have to. Zayn's coming with a choked off moan and at least wings springing from in between his shoulder blades where Harry's still holding him down.

“On my back,” Zayn says as best as he can, lifting his face from the pillow, “Come on my back.” Because he likes this mess, wants to be all sticky and slow with it too.

“Yeah, yeah, okay, yeah,” Harry's saying as he moves his hips, his whole body stuttering as he keeps saying, “Yeah, yeah,” and then he pulls out, a slick sound of the condom snapping and it's only a second before Zayn sighs with the hot mess on his back, Harry coming over his fist and onto Zayn.

“Zayn...”

Whatever Harry’s thinking, whatever he wants to say, he'll just have to wait a few more minutes. Zayn finds his arm and pulls him down next to him, shushes him, to just lie there together and catch their breaths. He's lying in his own come, drying against his stomach, and Zayn very nearly laughs with it.

Out of all the ways Zayn's imagined tonight going, this wasn't one of them, not even when Harry was dancing over his lap or straddling it. Zayn never thought he'd get up the courage to ask for this, or anything close, without being pissed enough to not remember it the next day.

“I,” Zayn starts, but doesn't know what to say when he sees Harry is watching him. His face is all soft lips, wide eyes and a sharp jaw Zayn wants to cut his tongue on. “Do you want to go out? With me? On a date?” It's not the most eloquent, but it'll have to do, because Zayn can't do better.

As a wide grin spreads over Harry's face, bright and happy, and as he tangles their feet together and pulls Zayn closer into his chest, he says, “Yes, please. I'd love to.”

“So polite,” Zayn murmurs and chances kissing Harry quickly, thinking Harry will let him.

“I remember hearing a lot of please’s too. No thank you’s yet though.”

“You're awful.” Zayn pushes him away gently. And then climbs half on top of to get closer again. He never thought about Harry being this much bigger than him. “I can't believe you, I mean, we actually just did that? In front of everyone.”

“Not everyone,” Harry says while nuzzling into Zayn's cheek. It's like they're not talking about him having Zayn's cock in his mouth in the middle of the living room. “Just our best friends.”

“They probably hate us.”

Harry shrugs. “I don't care. Do you?”

Liam probably won't be able to look at him for about a week, Niall will pat his back and tell him to keep it in his pants and Louis’ will be incurably Louis about it, which means Zayn will hate it, but maybe he just won't concentrate on him. Having to do this together, getting to share the awkward stares sounds inexplicably wonderful.

“Not really, no. And you know, thank you.”

“Hey lover boys,” Niall’s voice echoes through Zayn's door, making them both flinch in their silence. “Are you coming back out here or can we drink the rest of the beer?”

Harry looks at him, raises his eyebrow and without a word, Zayn shouts back, “We don't care, drink whatever you want.”

They're gonna need a couple of hours of sleep and maybe some water, probably a bite to eat, but then hopefully the rest will have left and they could go for round three. And maybe this time, they could make use of the kitchen. After that, there are only the bathroom and Liam's room left before they have to start on Harry's place. Which has more rooms. One of which is Louis’. Zayn can't wait.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr.](http://www.itsallaboutzarry.tumblr.com)  
>  This was inspired by a video that I don't want to link to here, but if anyone wants it, I can send it over on tumblr. Or alternatively, it's linked on [this post.](http://itsallaboutzarry.tumblr.com/post/169545481426/itsallaboutzarry-can-i-get-underneath-ya-by)


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